


Evergreen

by SmackTheDevil



Series: The Evergreen Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Jensen Ackles, Blacksmithing, Boys Kissing, Cute, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Mild Language, References to Illness, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: Jensen Ackles is a successful artist in the big city but is in desperate need of a change of scene and up sticks to the fictional town of Mapleview, Vermont.The town is like another world and a breath of fresh air for Jensen and his cat Bean. The people are friendly, the town is beautiful and his little log cottage is a like a dream come true but then so is local blacksmith Jared Padalecki.





	1. The Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Evergreen' is the love theme from the 1976 version of the movie 'A Star Is Born' and is sung by Barbra Streisand.

It had been Jensen Ackles’ fourth major art installation in as many years. And even at 32 he was already feeling a little jaded and cynical about the world that he had fallen into. There was no question that he didn’t love art. The people around him loved art; lived and breathed the medium but it was Jensen’s open approach of what art should be that ruffled feathers amongst his contemporaries. He believed that art should be appreciated at every level. There was no snobbery with him and Jensen could enjoy the art of a 4 year old as much as he could an old master. It was creation he lived for and was one hundred percent behind any person who felt the need to express themselves. He had made a speech at a showing of his work in Austin which went down like a lead balloon as far as his peers were concerned, however it had been so moving and so ego free it made the national and some international newspapers. A successful artist claiming that all who create art are bound by a shared love of seeing the world how they want to. That joy was the key not talent.

‘Klaus’ worked as Jensen’s PA, he had insisted that he hadn’t needed one when it was first suggested but as he become more well-known it turned out to be the only time in his life that he had quite rightly given in to persuasion. ‘Klaus’ wasn’t his real name. In reality he was Richard from Idaho. But he bore an uncanny resemblance to Klaus Voormaan, the ex-lover of Astrid Kirchherr and German photographer famous for capturing early images of The Beatles during their residency at the Kaiserkeller club on Hamburg’s infamous Reeperbahn. He crept about in all black, his dark brown hair styled like Voormaan’s and so Jensen nicknamed him Klaus and it had stuck. What had been odd was how fate had brought them together in such a way since Jensen was a huge admirer of the work of Stuart Sutcliffe, the ‘fifth Beatle’. It was the kind of art that Jensen, although felt, could never really have the heart to interpret because so often people misunderstood and that wasn’t the point of it. At least that was how Jensen felt. Sutcliffe’s art spoke to him, there was no doubt. Art moved people but to understand it, especially in Stutcliffe’s case; the work felt as if it were entirely his.

Jensen was due to fly out to the UK, London to be precise where he would host the final showing of his latest work (which had been already sold for an incredible sum) at the Tate Modern. The anonymous buyer had been keen to purchase ‘The Face’ but had allowed Jensen to display it publicly one last time. However, there had been one snag, Jensen was disinclined to go and Klaus was furious. He, Jensen had been flagging for many months and was finding city life suffocating, pretentious and claustrophobic; his rural upbringing was calling him home. No matter how many times he sat in the middle of Central Park, he still felt closed in. The buildings did nothing but loom over and fold in around him, like Ariadne’s architecture in the movie Inception. He also hadn’t informed Klaus that he had been looking at new homes and had found one after an extensive picking through his requirements, ticking off states which failed to offer what he wanted. His narrowed down search left him with Vermont and two days later he had viewed and closed a deal on a modest but pretty log cottage with out buildings, chicken coops, land and even a magical little stream. It was idyllic and really Jensen had always detested that word but in the case of Maple Cottage, it was a just observation. The buying of his new home had been a piece of cake, telling Klaus he was about become Thomas Kinkade and isolate himself from everything he had known for the past years to paint quaint landscapes was going to be the tough part. Jensen decided to tell him on July 6th, since then it would give ‘Richard from Idaho’ a good two weeks to get used to the idea that he was losing a friend _and_ his job. Klaus was resourceful enough to find a new placement, he was a well known face amongst the artists of Manhattan. That thought however, hadn’t made Jensen feel any better about the situation.

Jensen’s apartment had always been his favorite place in the city, he loved anywhere that exuded home. The view was great if you liked looking at other buildings and half a sunrise but even his home had felt like a vice around him. No amount of antique shopping or flea market purchases could have fixed the feeling. His belongings would look better placed elsewhere, as would he. To soften the blow and with the help of his long haired tabby cat Bean, Jensen put together a luxurious meat and cheese board with items procured from Klaus’ favorite deli. Jensen could cook but he figured it had been the easier option and splashed out on a bottle of red to compliment the board. Bean sat on his shoulders for half of the time, the two of them snacking on slices of meat. Cat hairs be damned. Klaus hated Bean, hated his name, hated the way the cat glowered at him and the feeling was entirely mutual. Bean had love only for Jensen, a fluffy bodyguard with claws. 

Jensen was wearing his favorite bright orange Mexican weave knitted jacket, or ‘cardigan’ since he had purchased it at a secondhand clothes market at the Portobello Market in London two years ago. It was chunky and cozy, full of holes which Jensen himself had sewn up and was never without a few cat hairs which had curled and worked their way deep into the weave. Klaus rolled his eyes when Jensen let him into the apartment.

“Haven’t you thrown that thing out yet?” Klaus said in a voice laced with the disdain and self-importance of Capote. 

“No, I never will. Just to spite you.” Jensen muttered while on the receiving end of two continental air kisses. 

“You’re a cow.”

“I know.” Jensen closed the door and leaned on it momentarily, if Klaus was already in a snippy mood, it was going to make the news even more difficult to impart. 

“So, why am I here? I feel as if you have something terrible to tell me. Or something good. You’ve changed your mind about going to Europe.” Klaus asked hopefully.

“No, I haven’t. And it’s England.” Jensen corrected. “You’ve heard of Brexit right?”

“Ugh, as if I care about what those pasty-faced, tea drinking, limey assholes do.”

“Sure.” Jensen said flatly. “So I prepared some food, I went to your favorite deli.” Jensen slipped into full ‘buttering-up’ mode.

“Oh God, are you dying?”

“What? No!”

“You never treat me like this. Just get it over with, love. At least then I can use the food as a pacifier.”

“Right.” Jensen leaned on the island counter, his hands pressed against the edge as Klaus sat opposite, eying the platter of food. Jensen went for the ‘Band-Aid’ option. “I’ve bought a house in Vermont and I’m moving there in two weeks.” Klaus laughed, Jensen did not.

“Permanently?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had a mental breakdown?”

“No.” Jensen laughed and sat himself down opposite Klaus. Bean jumped onto his lap for protection.

“But why?” Klaus said, wrapping a huge chunk of Brie in a slice of prosciutto with intent.

“Because I’m tired of city life.”

“Take a vacation.” Klaus said, stuffing the food into his mouth.

“That won’t work. I’ve been thinking about leaving for so long now and it’s the right time. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But, I know you would have tried to talk me out of it.” 

“Yes, I would have. This is insane. Jensen, my feelings aside for a moment. You are so successful, your paintings are in huge demand. You’re known in the art world internationally. This is ridiculous.” 

“I don’t enjoy it any more. I mean, I enjoy the work but I don’t enjoy the people, the lifestyle and I certainly do not like painting under pressure.”

As much as Klaus could be a bit of a queen about most things; Jensen was convinced the man hand some unaddressed anger issues, he could _sometimes_ be kind. And really, he had become the only person he could call a friend.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed and slightly hurt that you didn’t tell me before you even closed on a house but I suppose I can let you go.” Klaus sniffed.

“Thank you for your permission, mom.” Jensen chuckled. 

“In truth, Jen. You haven’t exactly been the right fit for the our community, you’re far too nice and down to earth.”

“I’ll take it.” Jensen grinned, sighing with relief that he had avoided World War Three.

“I suppose I’ll have to find a new job. Maybe I could give Banksy a call.”

“For the last time. You do not know who Banksy is nor do you have his phone number.”

“I might.”

Klaus had insisted on some kind of ‘going-away’ party. The word ‘party’ instilled sheer terror in Jensen. He was never the party type, preferring dinner and groups of one. One being himself. But Klaus was unmoved by the pleas from Jensen not to go to any trouble. ‘Think of it as a wake. You’re going to be dead to me’. The ‘do’ was the usual gathering of fashionable types who Jensen only really knew through Klaus and were probably pleased to see the back of who they called ‘The Lone Star Bob Ross’ which Jensen really hadn’t taken offense to but they never needed to know that. He mingled and small-talked but managed to slip away unnoticed. And that he decided, was precisely why he was leaving. 

“What in the name of sweet Betty White is that monstrosity downstairs?” Klaus had come to scold Jensen for vanishing from the party and maybe to help a little too. He was more than capable of carrying a cushion or two. It was moving day and Jensen had bought himself a truck on the end of which sat a rusty looking Airstream caravan for the purpose of saving his money and moving himself out of his apartment. “Oh my God, you’re a gypsy. You’re a Kardashian. Which one are you?” Klaus pulled back and eyed Jensen’s famously thick thighs. “With those legs, could be any one of them.”

“Are you going to insult me, or are you here to help?” Jensen said from the floor of his living room, wrestling with bubble wrap and tape as he wrapped up his collection of canvases.

“I bring coffee.” Klaus grinned. “You do realize you’re not going to be able to squeeze your hideous furniture into that tiny little space capsule you have parked outside.”

“Well aware, thanks. The new place has a bed and two couches, I figured I’d up-cycle them.”

“You’re such a peasant.”

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was famously thrifty and the wrought iron bed frame that he had found in the master bedroom in his new little log cottage had been an amazing find. It needed a little work but there was something romantic about pre-loved furniture. And in a world of fast fashion and poorly made household goods, Jensen was keen to hang onto the old for as long as he could. In bygone years, ‘things’ were made to last and if they were made to last, they were made to be embraced and enjoyed by generations. 

“The bed frame is stunning. Wrought iron and probably early Victorian.” Jensen grinned, sipping his coffee.

“Please tell me you’re buying a new mattress.”

“Of course. Although the one with it is beautifully made.”

“And probably full of bed bugs and worms.”

“Sure.” Jensen said flatly just as Bean came skidding into the living room and proceeded to frantically run around in circles.

“This place is a madhouse.” Klaus sighed. “What is wrong with your cat?”

“He has anxiety, I told you that a bunch of times. He doesn’t like that things are changing.” Jensen set his coffee cup on the kitchen counter and knelt down slowly. “Hey, Beanie. Come here.” Jensen gently tapped the wooden floor, Bean came to a sharp halt, his ass flying over his head and laid sprawled across floor. He pulled himself up and padded over to his best friend in the world. “Calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself, buddy.” Jensen swept Bean up into arms and cat fully relaxed against him, purring loudly.

“You two are so cute together. It’ll help ease the loneliness when you realize you can’t get laid. You’ll never meet a man in a town of, what was it?”

“Just under two thousand.” Jensen grinned, the idea of so few people filled his heart with joy.

“You can’t even get laid in Manhattan, love.” Klaus teased.

“It’s not a can’t, it’s a wont. I’m just picky about who I sleep with. I’m not going to open myself up to anyone I don’t deem worthy.”

“Such a waste of a beautiful face, Jen.”

“Shut up.” Jensen smirked, puffing out air between his lips to rid his mouth of cat hair.

Klaus, for all his stinging snipes turned out to be a great help to Jensen and by 3PM, he was sitting in his truck with Bean who was half asleep in a roomy carrier next to him clutching his plush Capuchin monkey, Cecil. Jensen suddenly felt a little sad, he _was_ going to miss his friend quite a bit, he was the only one he really had.

“Well, am I allowed to visit?” Klaus said, his eyes a little wet, his guard down completely.

“Of course you can, any time you like. It’s beautiful there, I’ll email you some photos.”

“Or you could just send them on WhatsApp like a human being.” Klaus chuckled warmly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jensen grinned, Klaus knew full well that Jensen’s knowledge of all things ‘app’ related was limited and archaic. 

“Thank you for being a friend.” Jensen started. “Traveled down the road and back again, your heart is true, you’re a pal and a confidant.” 

“Oh God, no more Golden Girls marathons.” Klaus sniffed and his shoulders rose as he grabbed Jensen through the open window of his truck and hugged him tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Jen.” He whispered.

“Going to miss you to, Richard.” Jensen whispered back. He felt Klaus chuckle against him, his real name coming from Jensen’s mouth warmed his icy heart.

“Call me when you get there, unless you get eaten by Gentle Ben.” Klaus pulled away and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “See you, Bean. Bye Jen.”

Six and a half hours later, Jensen and Bean were sat parked up outside their new home. He leaned out from the open window and listened to the sounds around him. He could hear the nearby brook, the fading sounds of dusk birdsong and nothing else. He was home.


	2. Hanging Baskets

It had occurred to Jensen that Bean had never had the true experience of grass or any kind of outdoors, dreaded trips to the vet aside. And so, the morning after a long sleep together on one of the two leather couches that had been left behind by the previous owner, Jensen attached Bean’s cat leash and took him out for a mornings constitutional around the cottage. It was a beautiful July morning, and for a while it took Jensen some time to realize that he had actually made the move. He felt as if he were in paradise. The grass surrounding the cottage was a lush green, shaded from the summer sun by sugar maple trees which felt soft and dewy underfoot. Bean jumped on anything that moved, small bugs and even blades of grass caught by the soft breeze. They took a leisurely stroll to the small stream that ran behind the cottage which sloped off toward a cluster of birch trees and a small clearing carpeted with spongey moss.  
“We like it here don’t we.” Jensen hummed, scooping a soggy Bean from the ground and kissing his head. The cat wriggled, clearly enjoying the great outdoors as much as his friend. “But as lovely as this is, I’m going to have to leave you for a while. We need supplies but Cecil will look after you.”

Jensen hadn’t yet visited the town of Mapleview and it was only after his buying the cottage that he looked it up on the internet. Even then he had been beguiled by the place, a polar opposite to the craziness of New York City. And as he drove his truck through the main street, the reality didn’t disappoint either. It was as pretty as a picture, postcard pretty. The main street was wide and the road was divided by a beautifully kept green verge, and on opposite sides, stores that catered to a persons’ every whim. Jensen knew about the little arts and crafts store as it had been almost at the top of his ‘definitely need to have’ list when he had been house hunting. Alongside it was a family butchers, a bakery, an old-timey barbers, a small grocery store with fresh fruit and vegetables displayed outside, a florist and really everything a person could need for simple day to day living. Jensen felt a little conspicuous parking his old/new beat up truck on such a pretty road. So many hanging baskets filled to the brim with brightly colored begonias swinging gently in the breeze from glossy black painted iron streetlamps. It was America circa 1955 and he had stepped back in time.   
Jensen found himself parked outside Milton’s, a small coffee shop and diner which seemed to gleam and glow. And as he walked in, he half expected to hear ‘Mr. Sandman’ playing on a jukebox in the corner. But instead, he heard the soft strains of Etta James and the quiet chatter of half a dozen diners.

“Good morning. What can I get you?” The voice came from behind the counter and belonged to a small friendly looking lady in her seventies. 

“Just a coffee to go please.” Jensen smiled at the limited selection of coffees on offer. No long menus of sugary, syrup loaded beverages, or green teas just good old fashioned straight up coffee from a steaming glass pot.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be the new owner of Maple Cottage would you?” The lady smiled, pouring Jensen’s coffee into tall paper cup.

“I am indeed.” Jensen said with surprise. “How did you guess?”

“Small community, word gets around. And goodness, Jenny said you were a handsome young man but she sold you short.” She chuckled and Jensen blushed, remembering his realtor Jenny. Another lady in advanced years who had commented on his green eyes and said ‘I bet it’s like having spring all year around with you and those eyes’. Which had been the nicest and most sweet compliment he had ever been on the receiving end of. He was suddenly in a world where he was being hit on by old ladies and he couldn’t have been more charmed by it, certainly beat the creepy guys he used to have to bat away like mosquitoes in the city. “It’s Jensen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Violet and my husband Milton is around somewhere, he’d love to meet you.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting everyone.” And that hadn’t been a polite lie; he _was_ really looking forward to becoming a part of the community. As much as he often felt anti-social, his anxiety sometimes got a hold of him but over time he had realized that it hadn’t been people, it had simply been the wrong people. The idea of hanging out and drinking coffee, gossiping with Violet filled his old-soul heart with joy.  
Violet handed Jensen his cup of coffee and waved a hand as he attempted to pay.

“No, that one is on the house. Welcome to Vermont.”

“Thank you, I think I’m going to like it here.” Jensen grinned, offered his thanks and said his goodbyes before stepping out onto the sidewalk which at that moment he noticed was so clean, he felt as if should take his shoes off. “This place is like a perfectly constructed dream.” He muttered, taking a sip of Violet’s coffee; strong and a potential colon cleanser. 

“Hey, new boy.” A voice came from behind him, no one. He then turned and looked down and saw a tiny white haired man standing beside him. Must be Milton.

“Hello.” Jensen held out a hand and it was shaken with enthusiasm. 

“I’m Milton, and you’re Jensen. A Scandinavian name, huh?”

“I think so, yes.”

“But you’re not from Scandinavia or New York are you, I hear a Texan twang there.” 

“Spot on.” Jensen grinned, impressed with Milton’s ear. Jensen had lost much of his accent, the artistic set of New York used to purse their collective lips at it which mostly came out much stronger after a few wines.

“So, have you settled in and more to the point, and I don’t want to sound like a grumpy old man but are you planning to renovate Maple Cottage?”

“No, not at all. I mean, it needs a little tidying up here and there but I love it, just the way it is.” It had clearly been the right answer because Milton beamed at him.

“That is wonderful news. I’m in no place to tell young folks what they can and can’t do but it would be a crying shame to ruin that cottage.”

“I have no plans to. It’s beautiful.”

“I agree. Now, are you on Facebook?” Milton pulled out a smart phone and put his glasses on.

“I’m not.” Jensen said, amused.

“Oh dear. Well, I suggest you join. We have a little group here, well several really but the one I think would interest you is called ‘Helping Hands’. It’s kind of like paying it forward. Need someone to fix your plumbing, do something for them in return.”

“Oh goodness, that’s just lovely.”

“It’s very popular, I haven’t had to pay for an electrician for ten years.” Milton said, tapping his nose. Jensen chuckled. “What is it you do for a living, Jensen?”

“I’m a painter.” He said, sipping Violet’s coffee which was making his head spin.

“Oh, that _is_ handy. I know for a fact, that Judy, who runs the bakery needs her spare room painted.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I’m an artist.” And for the first time in his life, that admission sounded rather lame and redundant. But Milton didn’t seem to be fazed by Jensen’s lack of manual skills.

“Looks like we’ll be hanging your art in our houses then.” Milton grinned at him. Jensen liked the man instantly. He had the warmth of Mr. Rogers and the bespectacled twinkle of Stan Lee. He was just a nice man. And nice had been thin on the ground for Jensen for a very long time.

“I mean, I grew up on a farm, kind of. So, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty and-.”

“Uh oh. Here he comes.” Milton said, only ever so slightly interrupting Jensen and tugging on the sleeve of his cardigan to pull him back against the store front. Curious, Jensen looked up and saw a tall figure bounding along the pavement but very quickly closing the distance between Milton and Jensen. The man was walking _fast_, his long legs taking huge strides along the sidewalk. And he looked absolutely furious. He was absolutely filthy too; dressed in a once-white wife beater, jeans stained with streaks of black but with the odd addition of a shiny, slightly ostentatious Jack Daniels belt buckle. Jensen felt a breeze as the man passed and then noticed a dirty face too, grubby with black marks and in his heavy gloved hand he was holding what looked like a steaming horseshoe. 

“Mornin’ Jared.” Milton said as if it were something he was used to saying on a regular basis. Jared just grunted and continued his stampede, causing a draught as he passed the two men.

“What is he doing, and why is he holding a horseshoe?” Jensen was amused as both he and Milton watched Jared walk up to the community hall which sat at the head of the main street and then back down on the other side of the road and then vanish down a narrow road.

“That’s Jared. His father owns the blacksmith and farriers.”

“You have a blacksmith here, as in a traditional fires and anvils blacksmith?” Jensen said, charmed once again.

“That we do. They mostly make their money with the farrier business, a lot of horse owners around here. But they repair old furniture and Jared, well that boy he’s got a creative streak and a temper. He and his father clash like this several times a day.”

“He does this several times a day?” Jensen chuckled.

“Yep, it’s how he lets off steam. They fight like cat and dog at work, Jared and his father. And when it gets to the point of no return, Jared does his ‘lap’ to cool off and then it’s business as usual. At home, they’re the closest two people could be. Been to hell and back, the Padalecki's.” Milton said sadly. Jensen just nodded in reply, not quite ready to pry into other peoples lives just yet.

“I’d love to see them at work.”

“Go down there, it’s all open and on the odd occasion we have tourists, I often point them in their direction. People enjoy watching the process. Real old world craft, you don’t see that often these days. They’re highly skilled men, we’re very proud of them here.”

“I don’t doubt you are.” Jensen smiled.

“Jared restores old furniture and sells the weather vanes he designs. He’s a talented boy.”

“I like that, I enjoy anyone who can create anything.” Jensen spoke with warmth and he could see Milton smiling from the corner of his eye.

“Well we have an arts and crafts fair to coincide with Thanksgiving. You should sell some of your paintings, have you had much success?”

The idea of a semi-rural arts and crafts fair was enough to send Jensen over the edge and into a never ending spiral of sheer joy and for a split second he wondered whether he had actually died and gone to heaven instead of simply moving house. 

“A little.” Jensen said modestly.

“Oh, so you’ve sold your work?”

“Yes.” Jensen nodded and sipped his coffee.

“Good for you, son.” Milton grinned but was called away from their charming conversation by Violet who needed help with a jammed spout on the soda fountain. “Any way, I’ll leave you to get on with your day. Pop down to the Padalecki’s, Jared isn’t as scary as he seems, you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“I definitely will. And it was nice meeting you.”

Jensen was in town for over three hours because he spent so much time meeting everyone, talking and loading his truck up with freebies. People were so friendly he wondered if they were all just beautifully stoned. It was lunchtime by the time Jensen returned home, Bean had clearly been asleep the entire time. His fur was flat against the side of his face and his whiskers were bent, clearly exhausted by the excitement of the move. He felt gorgeously warm as Jensen scooped him up into his arms and imparted a great secret into one of Bean’s fluff tipped ears.  
“I think I found out where the prettiest boy in the world lives today.” He whispered. Bean rubbed his face against Jensen’s short beard. “The moodiest too.” He chuckled, holding Bean against his chest. He walked toward the window and looked outside at the sun dappled grass and suddenly felt incredibly lonely. The knowledge of Jared’s existence had kick-started a sort of need that he knew he had been repressing. A need that perhaps he didn’t want to enjoy life just by himself.


	3. Of Men and Mice

Jensen had found himself in such a perfect position in his life that it had brought on a little of his anxiety. And the reasons were just piling up which in turn made him feel a little disappointed with himself for allowing the feelings to manifest. There was no doubt that he had found himself in an enviable situation. His art had enabled him to buy a property in a perfect little slice of the world, and although he knew he would have to find a job at some point in the near future, he was lucky enough to be in no rush. Yet, the blissfulness of it all frightened him. He felt too privileged and perhaps guilty that he could just move to ‘heaven’ and not have to worry, so of course, his mind created new worries just to keep the balance. For the next few days, Jensen fought off guilt, concern that Bean might enjoy being an outside cat too much and would run off and never come back again (even though he hadn’t been let off his leash yet), worry that he might run out of money too soon and a billion other pointless concerns which he finally found the strength to talk himself out of. It had only been three days since had been in town and met the friendly folk of Mapleview but Jensen knew that those three days alone had not been good for his mental health. He needed those people.

Just before he was about to leave to do a little painting and visit the Padalecki’s with his phone full of photos of his iron bed which was in desperate need of renovation, he suddenly heard a slapping and banging noise coming from the front of the cabin. Jensen had grown up with the familiar slap/bang sound of door screens and knew precisely where it was coming from. He found Bean throwing his fluffy little body at the door, trying desperately to escape. 

“What on earth are you trying to do to yourself, buddy?” Jensen said, kneeling beside the cat who was now clawing at the screen. Jensen dipped his head and chuckled at the sight of two mice scurrying backward and forward on the porch as if they were taunting poor Bean. “Ah, mice. Well, you’re going to have wait at least another week before I can let you outside. I’m not having you lost, Beanie.” Jensen picked Bean up who then squirmed in his hands, kicked the screen door open and stamped on the porch until the mice ran away out of sight. “And you’re going to stay in my bedroom while I’m gone, just have patience.” Jensen could see a lot of ‘mouse-gifting’ in his future.  
July was being glorious and hot. So used to the dry summers of rural Texas and the stifling heat of a big city, Vermont somehow made it easier to find shade and respite from the summer sun. The stream soon became his favorite place to cool down by.  
Jensen’s bed was his main priority after which he intended to work on his studio which came in the form of a wooden out-building only yards from his cabin. But first things first, he needed a bed. Sleeping on a leather couch when the nights were so hot was not healthy. And of course, he was keen to see the Padalecki’s at work and to get closer look at Padalecki junior who had piqued his interest, and had convinced himself that the temper was merely passion for his art. He hoped. And art was truly on his mind as he loaded a small easel and canvas into the seat of his truck, along with a box of sketching pencils and watercolors with the intention of capturing the pretty main street of Mapleview. Jensen hadn’t ‘drawn’ for a long time and had fallen into abstract art by mistake which oftentimes made him feel like a fraud. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the art that had made him relatively well known, he just lacked a passion for it. Klaus had once said that Jensen wasn’t ‘fashionable enough’ for the medium; anyone else would have been insulted but Jensen knew that in his heart he was a ‘paint for the masses’ kind of man and it had taken him a long time to realize it.

And so, Jensen found himself sitting on a polished wooden bench on a clear and bright innocuous weekday afternoon surrounded by hanging baskets and people who called him son as they passed or stood by to watch him paint. Milton visited a few times with coffee and offered dishes of peach cobbler and lemon meringue pie which Jensen declined at first but was eventually worn down when Violet was recruited and shoved a spoonful of cobbler into Jensen’s mouth. He ate two portions and accepted that he was likely to get fat in this town. And then, _he_ appeared. There was no horseshoe this time, but his hands were still gloved and he was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the first time Jensen had seen him. The same expression too. Jensen could almost hear Jared’s bounding footsteps as he did his sweep of the street.

“Hello.” Jensen said as Jared slowed his ‘anger-lap’ to a complete stop and stared down at the artist. And then barked at him. Jensen chuckled and in return was huffed at and then Jared was off again down the street but stopped suddenly at the half way point as curiosity got the better of him, turned around and walked back to stand right in front Jensen’s lovely view.

“What are you doing?” Jared was peering over the top of the canvas. Jensen glanced up, with a fine haired paint brush behind one ear, another in his hand.

“Macrame.” Jensen looked up, enjoying the tone of interest/accusation from Jared who pursed his lips at the sarcasm.

“Can I see?”

“Of course.” Jensen leaned back on the bench, allowing Jared to walk around and view the painting.

“Are you a painter?” Jared said, joining Jensen on the bench who realized that Jared was either really dumb or useless at small talk. 

“Yes.”

“Jason, right?”

“Jensen.” He corrected.

“That’s right. I’m Jared.” The blacksmith pulled off a glove and held his hand out to Jensen who shook it firmly.

“I know.” 

Meanwhile, further up the street. Violet was outside the coffee shop, cleaning their sidewalk tables and noticed the pair sitting on the bench talking.

“Milton! You have to come out here and see this!” Violet yelled through the open door. Milton shuffled out onto the sidewalk to join his wife.

“What is it, Vi?"

Violet nodded at the far end of the street where Jared and Jensen were sat chatting quietly about Jensen’s painting.

“Well, would you look at that. That boy couldn’t usually be stopped by an army.”

“I heard that Jensen is a gay.” Violet whispered.

“Is he? Good for him, we don’t have any of those here, it’s about time we did.” Milton muttered.

“And our Jared could use a friend.”

“I was coming to see you this afternoon.” Jensen smiled.

“Were you, why?” Jared seemed like a very serious young man but friendly in a wary kind of way and Jensen was kind of pleased with himself that he had helped snap him out of whatever funk he had found himself in rather than walking a rut into the pavement.

“Milton told me that you’re a blacksmith, it interested me. And also I might have some work for you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, can I show you?”

Jensen pulled his phone from his pocket, opened it up and showed Jared a few photo’s of his bed.

“The frame is solid and well made but the base is falling apart, can you fix it?”

Jared took the phone, a grubby hand shielding the sun from the screen.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s lovely, where did you find it, looks Victorian from what I can tell.”

“It was at the cabin when I moved in.” 

“I’ll come and have a look if you want me to.”

“Sure. I’m free most of the time.” Jensen chuckled then corrected himself. “All of the time.”

“Don’t you work?”

“Yes and no. I’m an artist full-time. Or was, am. Haven’t decided yet.”

“Have you sold any paintings?”

“Yes, many.” 

And for some reason known only to Jared, that answer pleased him because his face lit up like a Christmas tree and he _beamed_ at Jensen.

“Wow.” Jensen had no control over that word spilling from his mouth. Jared had the sunniest, most pretty smile Jensen had ever seen. Perfect white teeth and dimples so deep it looked like he had eaten a shish kebob sideways.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jensen chuckled while craning his neck as Jared stood up which was also very distracting.

“Are you coming to Mary and Steve’s Mid Summers Eve Mardi Gras Barbeque and Cocktail evening?”

“No.” Jensen chuckled.

“You should. It’s fun. It’s like Mardi Gras but in the summer with barbeque food and cocktails.” Jared said, still smiling and Jensen felt as if he had two suns shining down on him.

“Thanks for the clarification.” Jensen smirked.

“Sorry, I don’t usually talk to people when I’m taking five from work, it’s weird. And I’ve never done it before. I should go back. Come by later, I’m finishing a weather vane for an online customer.”

“Okay, that would be nice. I’m keen to watch you at work.”

Despite announcing his having to leave, Jared still hovered a little for a moment then scurried off without even saying goodbye.

“Bye then.” Jensen said cheerily even though Jared was out of ear shot. “What a cute giant weirdo.”

Jensen could hear the clang of metal on metal as he approached the blacksmiths and the smell of burning hot coals filled the air around him. The set up the Padalecki’s had was delightful. A smallish stone outbuilding that had been built to look as if it should be sat in the middle of a mining town in the North of England and was surrounded by rolling green hills and pretty trees. There was another stone building which was slightly more modern and looked to be an office cum store with a metal, hand painted sign reading ‘Padalecki & Son– Farrier and Blacksmith’ written across the door. It was like stepping back in time and Jensen loved it. Outside the store, Jensen wandered amongst piles of horseshoes, weather vanes and a gorgeous sculpture of a cat made out of sheet metal.

“His whiskers are made from guitar strings.” A voice came from behind Jensen and he was greeted with a ‘shish kebob’ grin.

“I noticed. He’s lovely and you gave him a gender too.”

“He was my cat from childhood. His name was Jared.”

“You named your cat after yourself?” Jensen asked with a deep chuckle.

“I wasn’t a very imaginative kid. It got confusing at times.”

“I can imagine. Did you make it, him?” 

Jared nodded.

“Come and meet my dad.”

Mr. Padalecki looked absolutely nothing like his son. In that he was slightly shorter, bald and just looked nothing like Jared at all aside from an initial steely demeanor which once introductions were over turned into something much more friendly.

“Jared tells me you paint.”

“I do, sir.”

“I like creativity, you’ll find that most of us here at Mapleview are deep into arts and crafts. You should come to the Fall and Thanksgiving Arts and Crafts Pre-Christmas Main Street Fair.”

Jensen chuckled at the second pointlessly long titled event he had been invited to. 

“It’s great because it leads us nicely into the Mapleview Christmas Crafts Buffet and Charity Auction.” Mr. Padalecki grinned at Jensen who was just reveling in the fact that he had seemed to have found his tribe. 

“I’ll be sure to mark it down in my diary.”

“No one ever complains of boredom in this town. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Close of day and I have some accounts to be going over.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“Gerry, please. We’re friends now.”

Jensen couldn’t ever imagine these two friendly and welcoming men fighting with one another so intensely to warrant Jared having to blow off steam several times a day. But then he remembered Milton saying that they had been through a lot together. And that thought suddenly made Jensen sad and thoughtful.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed. Everyone is so nice here. And it’s so nice here.” Jensen pulled a face at the lack of eloquence to his observations.

“It’s the best place in the world and I love it. Shall we go and look at your bed?”

“You want to do it now? I was hoping to see you at work.”

“We close up at this time but you’re welcome to come back whenever you want.”

Bean went insane with excitement and curiosity when Jensen returned with a tall stranger in tow and while the pair talked in the living room, the cat weaved between their legs because he had been starved of attention for three whole hours and that’s how the end of the world begins. Jensen bobbed down and allowed Bean to climb onto his shoulders.

“It’s his favorite place.” Jensen said, as he noticed the amusement in Jared’s eyes. “Be nice Bean.” He warned and then after seeing Jared ‘anger lap’ around the town several times, talking to him extensively about his painting _and_ driving back to the cabin with him, it was at that moment he realized just how lovely looking he was. The smile had thrown him initially because it had been so unexpected but the rest of him was near perfection. Aside from the fact that he was as tall as a Redwood he also had a beautifully shaped body. Broad with long muscular lines and a narrow feminine waist and really Jensen couldn’t get over his eyes that were a gorgeous light brown. Or hazel? Silver? He couldn’t tell but he was instantly beguiled by the entire package. A feeling he had to put to one side because the chances of Jared reciprocating were slim to say the least. Jensen decided to put himself out of his misery. 

“So where do you live?” Jensen asked as Bean balanced on his shoulder, head outstretched sniffing one of Jared’s extended fingers.

“In town. My Dad has a place and I kind of live in one of the outhouses, we renovated it a few years ago so I could have my own space. It’s a barn really. I live in a barn.” Jared chuckled.

“On your own?”

“Yeah, well. I had a girlfriend live with me up until last fall but, you know.” 

Dammit. But that’s fine. Jensen was keen to make friends but at least he knew and could nip pining in the bud. Better to know than to not.

“Hm, I haven’t lived with a partner before, so no, I wouldn’t know.” Jensen chuckled lightly.

“You have. You live with Bean.”

“That is a very sad sentence.” Jensen frowned.

“Crazy cat man.” 

“Yes. Would you like to see my bed?”


	4. 39 Lanterns

Obviously Jared was straight and hadn’t batted an eyelid at Jensen’s unintentional pick-up line ‘would you like to come and see my bed?’ It had been an honest question because that’s why Jared was there in the first place. And by the time Jared had lifted the old but heavy mattress from the frame and lifted the even heavier frame onto its side to inspect it, Jared was sweating so heavily that it had created a ‘V’ of moisture down the front and the back of his wife-beater. And Jensen was soon downstairs making lemonade from scratch like some middle-aged woman hitting on the pool boy. 

“It’s going to be a problem, was the cabin built around the bed? I can’t begin to imagine how they got it up the stairs.” Jared chuckled, washing his hands at Jensen’s kitchen sink and sluicing himself with cold water.

“Well, it certainly didn’t come flat-packed.” Jensen smirked, handing Jared a glass of lemonade packed with ice.

“I’ll have to work on it here. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’m sleeping on the couch with Bean right now, so that won’t be a problem. You can bill me after the work.”

“I’m not going to charge you, Jensen.”

“Oh, why?”

“Because I saw you had joined the Helping Hands Facebook page, so you give me something in return.”

“Money?” Jensen smirked against his glass of lemonade. 

“No, a painting. Paint a picture of my Dad and I working. He’d like that a lot. So would I.”

“Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

“It’s how things work here. We don’t really have any real tradesmen here, just people who know how to do stuff.”

“So, unqualified then?”

“If you like, but everything is done up to code, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Jensen had been so used to his sprawling loft in New York and in his mind, his tiny cabin had been an upgrade but his pokey kitchen seemed even smaller with Jared filling the space. Even worse, the fact that he was straight didn’t quell any form of pining or want on Jensen’s part. Jared was just utterly beautiful; open, kind and eloquent now that the initial small talk was out of the way which he was worse than useless at but even _that_ had been cute and endearing. Damn Jared Padalecki and his shish kebob smile.

Jared promised to come back at the weekend, nice and early because he was helping set up Mary and Steve’s Mid Summers Eve Mardi Gras Barbeque and Cocktail evening. Jensen wanted to ask why they were calling it ‘Mid Summer’ and ‘Mardi Gras’ since those occasions had since long past but he didn’t because Jensen was learning fast that you don’t question the people of Mapleview, you just let yourself get swept along with the eccentric beauty of it all.

And, Bean _loved_ Jared too. How typical.

Jensen had never been a ‘kinks’ person. He wouldn’t call himself vanilla but he just preferred sex without all the bells and whistles. At least he thought so, it had been a long time. But as he stood just outside the door way of his bedroom, the windows thrown open and the drapes tied up over the rail he figured that perhaps he wouldn’t mind ‘man dressed as welder’ to visit him on one of his many dark and lonely nights. Jared’s upper body was romance novel muscular, he was sweating profusely which only added to the image and filthy too which Jensen had found insanely hot. And no, he definitely did not have a dream where Jared had him pressed up against an anvil, leaving streaks over soot and grease all over his body. Definitely did not. Did.  
“Do you need a break? I made lunch.” Jensen said, his voice a little raised. Jared lifted his helmet which looked like something out of the dark ages.

“Yeah, I’m almost done. Give me five and I’ll be down. Oh and that mattress, you should burn it. It has mushrooms growing out of it.”

“Gross.” Jensen chuckled.

“Save it for the December 1st Welcome to Winter Barbeque and Bonfire.”

“Noted.” Jensen smirked and disappeared downstairs to lay out the food on the kitchen table which on reflection seemed rather a lot but Jared looked like an ‘eater’. There were plates of sandwiches, pigs in blankets and bowls of different flavor chips and of course a freshly made pitcher of lemonade. “Oh God, it’s like a kids’ birthday party spread. What am I doing?” Jensen’s little personal crisis was interrupted by a loud clatter and then a yell/growl of frustration, followed by heavy feet across the landing and down the stairs. Jensen moved through to the living room, only to see the back of Jared storm from the cabin. He then moved to the door and watched as Jared, who looked furious and did a lap around the cottage. He glanced up at Jensen who recoiled and hid behind the door screen as Jared glowered at him. “Oh dear. Temper, temper.” He muttered before retreating back inside to watch Jared from every available window. “What’s happened?” Jensen called out from the back door which he had flung open.

“Leave me alone.”

“No, stop being such a child and get back inside now.” Jensen has never been the most assertive of men and he had no clue where that had come from. Jared dropped his head and sloped back toward the cottage. He hovered by the back door. “Come in. Eat something.” Jared grunted something under his breath and sat himself at the table. They ate in comfortable silence, which surprised Jensen until Jared took a deep breath.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. What happened up there?”

“I was packing away, well I had packed away and then I saw I had missed a bit.”

“Okay.” Jensen repressed a smirk. “Well, that’s alright. Just unpack and finish it. No need to go doing your rage lap.”

“I get frustrated when I get things wrong.”

“You’re human, it happens.”

Jared snorted at that, before taking a huge bite of one of Jensen’s sandwiches.

“I just have a temper.”

“No shit.” Jensen chuckled lightly but Jared glared at him. 

“Sorry. But we all have our foibles.”

“What does that mean?”

“Weaknesses.”

“Oh yeah. I thought you said baubles.” Jared grinned and Jensen couldn’t help but laugh.

“Take me for example. I have, on occasion, crippling anxiety.”

“No, I don’t believe that.”

“Well, I do. I just hide it well.” Jensen shrugged. “I hide behind so much, this sweater for one.” He said, lifting an arm up. 

“Now you come to mention it, every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been wearing it. It’s July.”

“It’s protection.” Jensen was kind of surprised as to how open he was being but since he seemed to be the calming balm that had snapped Jared out of his famous funks twice, it seemed only fair to share. “We’re all just muddling along, trying our best, day to day.”

“Must be difficult living alone when you struggle so much.”

“Sometimes.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I haven’t had a boy-” Jensen pulled his head back. “-how do you know I’m gay?”

“Jenny told Vi, Vi told Milton and then he told my Dad and he told me.”

“Of course. Jungle telegraph.” Jensen rolled his eyes but was amused nonetheless. “Hold on, how did Jenny know?”

“She said that when you came to view the cottage she asked if you were bringing your wife with you and you said ‘No, I’m gay’.”

“Wow, I don’t even remember that conversation.”

“Don’t worry though, people are cool here. No one is phobic or ‘ist’.” Jared grinned and shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

“It really is like I’ve stepped into a dream moving here. It’s so delightful, I feel like when I wake up I’m going be back in my apartment in New York, but I wake up to bird song and dewy grass.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“I can be.”

And then Jared looked at him oddly. If Jensen wasn’t mistaken it was as if Jared was looking at him through a soft focus lens and then made a little ‘Hm’ sound as if he were internally considering something.

“More lemonade before you finish?” Jensen asked feeling a little fuzzy.

“Perfect.”

Jensen’s bed was gleaming and restored back to its original state by the time Jared had finished with it. He was still getting used to taking advantage of the ‘Helping Hands’ scheme and not paying Jared for the hours he worked felt like a con. When Jensen attempted to offer Jared money for the second time, he was again refused. ‘I want a painting’, Jared had insisted and who was Jensen to say no to such a pretty face. 

“I’d better go. I have to help Mary and Steve. Are you definitely coming tonight because everyone will be so disappointed if you don’t.” 

“I sure am. I’m doing my bit too.” Jensen said standing on the porch and really not wanting Jared to leave.

“Are you making 479 different types of sandwiches?” Jared teased.

“No, I am bringing 4 different types of my homemade coleslaw.”

“Hm, you really can cook can’t you?”

“I dabble.” Jensen said modestly.

“Hm.” There was that ‘thing’ again, as if Jared was considering something. “I like that. Well, I’ll see you tonight at 7, and I hope you’ll enjoy my lanterns.”

“Lanterns?” 

“You’ll see. Later, Jen.”

“Later, Jay.” Jensen grinned and then when ‘Jay’ was out of ear shot, Jensen sighed heavily like a love sick 15-year-old girl.

*

Jensen was absolutely sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch and was dreaming about a fairyland where in the woods lived a beautiful and enticing nymph with a dimpled grin and legs for days. He was awake but it wasn’t fairyland, just the gorgeous woods which surrounded Mary and Steve’s little log cabin and the nymph was up a ladder fixing the last of his mysterious lanterns to a tree. They were _everywhere_ and they were beautiful. Each one was a fat round teardrop shape, the metal intricately cut out with stars and moons as little tea lights flickered from inside.

“Did you make these?” Jensen asked, standing at the bottom of the nymphs ladder with four large Tupperware box of coleslaw. 

Jensen _loved_ Tupperware.

“I did. It took me all year. There are 39 of them.”

“That’s quite a precise number. Jensen mused.

“There were 40 but I stood on one on accident and lost my temper so I threw it across the courtyard of the smithy’s.” Jared said, reversing down the ladder. 

“What a shocker.” Jensen teased. Jared looked lovely. Clean for once and dressed in straight leg black jeans and a short sleeved orange and blue plaid shirt which lent itself well to Jensen’s eternally on him cardigan. “You look smart.”

“I don’t always look like I’ve been dragged down a chimney.”   
Jared grinned, folding the ladder away.

“The lanterns are just beautiful.”

“Good, I’m glad about that, because one of them is yours. I made one for each of the guests.”

“Wow, what even is this town?” Jensen shook his head but their conversation was cut short when a young woman in her early thirties approached them.

“Jensen?” 

“That’s me.”

“I’m Mary. I am so thrilled you came and you even chipped in.” Mary said, nodding at the Tupperware.

“I made coleslaw, I grabbed it from the list of offerings on the Facebook page.” Jensen was good at Facebook these days.

“It looks lovely. And my, a pink one?”

“Beets and balsamic vinegar.”

“Oh goodness, that sounds divine. I mean, don’t get me wrong I love this town but we’re not known for our fancy cuisine.” 

“I don’t know. Vi’s peach cobbler won me over.” Jensen said, charmed that pink coleslaw could be regarded as something fancy. 

“Let me take these.” Mary said, relieving Jensen of his Tupperware. ‘_I want those boxes back_’. Jensen hadn’t noticed that Jared had vanished during the pink coleslaw conversation and felt a little sad about it. He had been left standing alone until he felt a huge presence behind him.

“Want to be my date?” Jared muttered, Jensen felt the warmth of Jared’s breath against his ear. He turned around and looked up.

“If you like.”

“I mean not like _that_.” Jared chuckled but still offered his pointy elbow for Jensen to wrap a hand around.

“Oh no, of course not.” And Jensen was unsure whether his disappointment had worked itself onto his face but he _was_ sure that he was smiling.__

_ _“Hm, okay.” Jared hummed and dragged Jensen toward the throng of guests. It was going to be a long night._ _

_ _It turned out to be just that but an enjoyable one because despite doing his best to mingle, Jensen had a constant companion all night. Jared barely left his side for longer than three minutes. And Jensen concluded that Jared can pee, really really fast. If people hadn’t known better, the two J’s looked and presented themselves like a couple. And Jensen was uncomfortably aware of it all night. He had a nice time and Jared even walked him back to Maple Cottage, hovering on the porch like a man winding up a date and angling for an invite in. A nightcap and maybe more._ _

_ _“Did you have fun?”_ _

_ _“Yeah, I did. Although, I’m going to have to go back and get my Tupperware tomorrow.” Jensen said in all seriousness. _ _

_ _“You’re such an old woman.”_ _

_ _“Thanks, Jay.” Jensen half smiled because every second spent in Jared’s company only made Jensen like him all the more. And Jensen was famous for long, pining crushes on unobtainable people and it was happening all over again._ _

_ _“I like it. Shows you care about things.”_ _

_ _“I do.”_ _


	5. More Than One Face

Jensen didn’t ask Jared inside for a nightcap and the obvious disappointment from the strapping blacksmith hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jensen. And it played on his mind for days and days because things always did with him but the ‘rejection’ hadn’t caused any ill-will between the two men and as July turned into August Jensen found himself seated outside the Padalecki workshop keeping to his word and painting the skilled men while they worked. Jensen had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t just Jared there in his signature wife-beater, sweating and pounding metal while his glistening muscles flexed and stretched. No, Mr. Padalecki was there too and really Jensen was pleased with the distraction of Jared’s dad, anvils and fire. 

Jensen sketched the men lightly onto his canvas, choosing to pose them almost back to back, deep in concentration, arms lifted ready to reign blows on white hot metal. By lunchtime, Jared was fully formed and painted. His father, a fuzzy blur. 

‘_Oh God_’.

“How’s the painting going?” Jared said, hand lifted against his brow to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Uh, yeah. Good. Halfway there.” Jensen leaned back to allow Jared to see.

“You’ve done me then?” Jared grinned and bobbed down, one hand on Jensen’s knee to steady himself. 

“Yes, I have.”

‘Painting Jared’ was a sight to behold because he looked like he should be on the cover of a trashy romance novel. All lean muscle, sweat, his long hair hanging seductively over his eyes.

“Wow. I didn’t realize I looked like that when I’m working.”

“It’s just an interpretation.” Jensen muttered.

“So, I _don’t_ look like that when I’m working?”

“You do, of course you do.” Jensen was already slowing boiling to death, sitting in the noon sun in his cardigan. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“You look hot, you should take this ratty old thing off.” Jared said, tugging on the wool. His hand was still clasped around Jensen’s knee tightly.

“Nah.”

“You’ll get heatstroke, Jen.”

Aw, he called him Jen again.

“Fine.” And he did it. He took his gorgeous, comforting cardigan off. The first time he’d removed it in public for almost a year. Jared cocked his head, eyes keenly scanning Jensen’s torso which was wrapped in an unremarkable black V-neck t shirt. 

“Hm.” That thing again. Always, ‘Hm’. 

“Better?”

“Much. At least you won’t die now.” Jared smirked, pushing Jensen’s leg down as he stood up. “You’re a really good painter. You said you’ve sold some, how much did your last painting go for?”

“Um.” Jensen liked honesty, but he didn’t like bragging but what the hell, might as well tell the truth. “A little shy of 900k.” He muttered. Jared laughed, Jensen did not.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Jared beamed. “Are you rich?” 

“No. But I’m comfortable.” Jensen smiled.

“Jared! Stop flirting. Get your behind over here and get back to work!” Mr. P bellowed. _Flirting?_

“Shut up, I’m just talking to Jensen.”

“It’s fine. He looks really mad, you should go.” Jensen whispered.

“No. I’ve been working all morning. I deserve a fucking break.”  
Jensen winced at the curse word, not that he disliked cussing but it sounded wrong and as if it had made Jared’s mouth impure. Jensen filed that odd observation away for later and then World War Three kicked off and the Padalecki’s ripped into one another. Jensen felt like a talk-show audience member. They yelled, they threw stuff and then Jared was off. Off on his anger lap and Jensen followed forgetting he wasn’t wearing his protection cardigan.

“Jared.” Nothing. “Jared.” Nothing, just the back of a lovely body, taut with anger. “Jay!” Jensen yelled Jared’s name out and Jared stopped. “Hey, calm down.” He said, taking Jared to one side, and ducking behind a narrow grassy thoroughfare which lead to the Main Street. “Take some deep breaths.” Jensen’s voice was soothing and soon Jared was a crumpled mess, _crying_ on Jensen’s shoulder. “Oh no. No, no, no. Please don’t cry.” Jensen felt as if it were the worst thing he had ever witnessed. Sure, Jared had a temper but beyond that, his disposition was sunny. He pushed Jared’s hair back from his face, revealing the beginning of a receding hairline. “It’s okay, don’t cry.” Telling someone not to cry when they clearly wanted to cry was foolish, Jensen knew that too well. But he hated it. As if Jared had been keeping _him_ steady all this while.

“Sorry.” Jared said, sucking in a breath and pressing his huge grubby paws against his cheeks. “I don’t usually-”

“It’s alright. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I need to go back.” 

Jensen nodded and they walked back to the smithy with the sound of Jared’s reluctant feet dragging across dirt and grass. And then Jared was shuffling into the workshop and was immediately scooped up into his Dads’ arms which made Jensen’s heart swell and reminded him to call his own parents. It had been a while. He made himself scarce, packed away his brushes and paints, leaving the Padalecki’s to their private moment. He left his cardigan behind.

It was dusk when there was a rap at Jensen’s door, he was just finishing up a late supper of fish and salad, Beans’ paw had been a constant, settled on his hand the entire time he ate. Jensen could see Jared through the screen door, because he literally blocked out what little light of the day was left.

“Hello.” Jensen looked up, aware that he now had fish breath.

“Come on in. Just don’t let Bean out.” Jared was wearing Jensen’s cardigan. A little short in the everything but it caused a little laugh between them.

“You left it behind.” Jared grinned, quickly shutting the door as Bean skidded to a halt at his feet. 

“Ha, I didn’t even notice.” Progress, he liked that. “Aren’t you hot?”

“Sweltering.” Jared took the cardigan off. “And I only wore it from home to here. I don’t know how you wear it in such hot weather.”

“Me neither, now I come to think of it. Cold drink?”

“Yes please.” Jared glanced at Jensen’s half eaten plate then chuckled as the last slice of salmon was covertly slid from it by Bean. “Your cat is eating your supper.”

“No!” Jensen batted a hand in Bean’s direction, the cat flinched but he was determined and dragged the fish away and vanished into a corner of the living room. “Little bastard.”

“Was it nice?”

“The half I ate, yeah.” Jensen grinned, and walked with his plate into the kitchen. Jared shuffled behind him.

“I actually also came to apologize about before.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, the ugly man crying.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s fine.” Jensen waved a hand and rinsed his plate off in the sink.

“I feel like I need to explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

Jensen fixed them a pitcher of what he had named ‘Citrus-ade’. A sharp punch of sorts with lemons, limes, blood oranges and grapefruit.

“I like to OD on vitamin C.” Jensen chuckled as they sat at the kitchen table. The back door was open and a welcome cool breeze swept through the screen, Jared inhaled and Jensen settled back in his chair.

Jared was 18 months into studying fine art at college when his mother suffered a devastating stroke. She was in the hospital for a good many weeks until it was suggested she be moved to palliative care, since it was only a matter of time. The medical bills were piling up and Mr. P was working every hour to earn the extra money needed to cover his wife’s care. But it was a struggle. Jared couldn’t stand being on the other side of the country while his father dealt with everything and so, the decision was made for Jared to leave college and care for his ailing mom full-time. He never went back to school. It was a lot for a young man who had been at the very beginning of his own journey in life but Jared took it all in his stride. Jared bathed her, fed her, styled her hair how she had always liked it and watched as she slowly forgot that the boy looking at her was her only son. He was there when she breathed her last breath, holding her hand and softly singing his favorite Streisand song – _Evergreen_. 

Jensen sat quietly as Jared spoke, one hand placed lightly over his mouth, his eyes a little glassy with unshed tears.

“Oh Jared.” Jensen muttered, sucking in a breath. What else was there to say?

“It’s better now. Me and my Dad, we _do_ love one another but he feels guilty about, gosh, everything. Our fights never last longer than a few minutes and never spill over into our home life.” Jared nodded and sniffed up a little wetness in his nose. Jensen closed a hand over Jared’s and gave it a squeeze. 

“I’m glad you’re doing better now. I can’t imagine-”

“It’s rough. Was rough.”

“Thank you for telling me. There was no need.”

“I like talking to you. It’s easy. Even though it’s only been a couple of weeks, I feel comfortable around you.”

“Me too. It’s been a long time since I had a friend. A real friend.”

“Me too. It’s nice living here but it’s full of middle-aged couples and seniors. I’m glad you came here.”

Jensen nodded and dragged his hand away from Jared’s and topped up his empty glass with more Citrus-ade.

“I love your drinks.” Jared hummed. “And your coleslaw. And your sandwiches.” 

“I get the picture.” Jensen chuckled. “You’re more than welcome to come over for lunch or dinner, whenever you like.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I like company too. People with anxiety are probably more sociable than those haven’t. We’re just not very good at it.”

“Had it long?”

“Forever.” Jensen smiled. “Would you like to see my studio?” He was keen not talk about himself, Jared had come to him with _his_ story. Jensen’s could wait for another day.

“I would love to.”

Jensen had been working on his studio in between running errands and painting for the community. He walked with Jared down a small slope of green grass, passing a pile of old chicken coops.

“Are you going to fix those up?” Jared asked.

“Yes, eventually. I love chickens.”

“Me too. They’re so cuddly.”

“Right? I tell _everyone_ that and not a soul agrees.” 

“I do.” Jared grinned. Ugh, Jensen felt like the more he got to know Jared, the more he found out just how much they had in common. Which was a lot. Why, oh why did Jared have to be so damn appealing?

Both men took hold of a large wooden door each and on Jensen’s signal, they pulled them apart together and bolted them open. Jared flicked his hair back as he stood up and Jensen sighed to himself, then mentally smashed his head against the door, several times.

“Oh wow. Look at all this art.” Jared stepped inside with a confused expression.

“Is this all yours?”

“Yes, why?”

“It’s very-”

“Abstract?”

“Yes, this isn’t you.”

“Was, is. I don’t know.” Jensen shrugged.

“No, this isn’t you at all. It’s good though.” Jared mused, running a hand over one very heavily oiled, textured canvas before tearing his hand back. “Sorry. I like to touch. It’s why I sculpt, tangible.”

“That’s okay. Most of these I wound up using my hands, I like people to touch them, although most don’t.”

“This is a print.” Jared said, lifting a five by five canvas with his hands. “Is this you?”

“Hm. It’s a print of the one I sold recently.”

“The 900k one?” Jared set the print down on a higher surface, stepped back and considered it.

“Yes. It’s called The Face.”

“Why ‘The’ Face, there’s more than one here.”

Jensen could have glomped Jared then and there and smothered that pretty honey-brown face with kisses.

“You are spot on and have a _very_ good eye.” Jensen grinned.

“It makes me sad, I don’t like it. Sorry.” Jared turned the print around.

“That’s okay. Not a fan myself.” Jensen watched Jared position himself in front of the almost finished painting of he and his father.

“I love it. My dad is going to be so happy when he sees this. He’ll hang it in the office so all our customers will see it. This is much more you, this style.”

“Why?” Jensen was enjoying Jared’s observations and opinions immensely. Honest, open and there was no pretentiousness. He wasn’t trying to be fashionable.

“Because you enjoy honesty, and realness. Abstract makes you feel like a faker. And you prefer painting for everyone because ordinary people don’t enjoy being deceived by art. They like cute cottages and scenes of every day life because it’s real to them. And you think that too.”

“Oh God.” Jensen turned away with a hand over his mouth and cried. He was already on edge because of his conversation with Jared about his dear mom.

“Oh no, not you too.” 

Jensen felt warmth and two large hands slide over his shoulders as he sobbed. Jared turned him around and Jensen fell against his chest and was pulled into the most affectionate cuddle he’d had for a very long time.


	6. Bug Candles

Jensen hadn’t spoken to Klaus since his move to Mapleview, or as Jensen called it, Jared Land. Because there was nothing in Mapleview apart from Jared. A new friend, a new straight friend. And he’s lovely, he’s kind, talented and creative. Tactile, beautiful. Everything. He had joined Facebook as Milton had suggested when he had first arrived in the town and had added a few family members and old friends from school and finally a one Richard Sussex. Klaus’ real name and one Jensen had always thought wouldn’t go amiss in a Jane Austen novel. ‘Sir Richard Sussex, ma’am, at your service.’ Jensen hated phone calls and wondered why he hadn’t embraced his smart phone sooner.

**Where have you been, Jen? I was beginning to wonder if they had gone all Deliverance on that cute little butt of yours**

That’s rural Georgia, you moron. Vermont is all ice cream and maple trees!

**Settled in?**

Yes, more or less. The people are really nice here

**Made friends?**

Yeah, a few. Mostly seniors, lol

**Look at you saying lol. Lol**

I’m not a complete Luddite

**Met a man yet?**

No. Well, yes. No. Kind of. It’s complicated.

**How so?**

He’s straight

**That’s quite a complication for a gay man. Show me! Pic please!**

I don’t have one

**Go on his Facebook and steal one**

How do I do that?

**Long press and save**

Hold on

_five long minutes later_

There you go. He’s a blacksmith, hence the dirty wife-beater and welding helmet

**OMG. He’s beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Jesus, calm down

**Oh Jen. You’re in trouble**

Yeah

**You okay?**

I think I’m falling in love with him

**Shit**

Yeah

Jensen had two choices and neither appealed. One was to avoid Jared at all costs which was never going to happen because Jensen loved his company. He was intelligent, funny and kind, who wouldn’t want to be around a human equivalent of a border collie. And two was to be around him and let the feelings that were already percolating to evolve into something that could become heartbreaking. But Jared had been a constant for days now and Jensen couldn’t get enough of him and so he invited him for dinner one balmy August evening. Just as he had promised.

Candles. Jensen loved candles. He really wanted to set some kind of a mood without scaring Jared off. Jared knows he’s gay and it doesn’t seem to worry him and Jensen isn’t one of those rare entitled gay men who thinks anyone with a penis is fair game. Tealights were Jensen’s best bet, it was August after call and he made a point of using citronella ones ‘because of bugs’. Jared was early as he usually was when they had plans, and he walked straight in because he did that too now. Never a knock, just the _swoosh-bang_ of the screen door and the sound of heavy foot steps across the wooden floors.

“I bring wine.” Jared said, waving a bottle of white in his hand and setting it on the kitchen table which had already been laid out. “Ooo, candles.”

“Bug candles.” Jensen corrected.

“That’s why you have a screen door.”

“Better safe, than sorry.” Jensen grinned.

“So, what’s on the menu tonight, Jenny?”

“Cottage pie with steamed broccoli.”

“Oh wow, okay. Can I come and live with you?”

_‘Yes please. And stay forever’_

“Do you know what cottage pie is, Jay?”

“No.” Jared chuckled.

Jared was almost drooling as Jensen set the pie on the table, laying it on a pretty metal trivet. Layers of dark, meaty gravy and ground beef, mashed potato and a sprinkling of bubbling, melted cheese.

“I think I have a food boner.” Jared giggled, allowing Jensen to ‘be mother’ and serve him up a huge dollop.

“You might hate it.”

“Why? Meat, potato and cheese. That’s a get Jared Padalecki into bed combination.”

Oh God. Two vaguely sexual comments in less than a minute and Jensen just wanted to put all of his ‘bug candles’ out with his face and crawl under the table. But he didn’t, he laughed.

“Well, just eat up and have some vegetables.” Jensen muttered, spooning a pile of broccoli onto Jared’s plate. 

After Jared had taken the first mouthful and Jensen had watched the mans’ eyes roll into the back of his head, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“Do you ever want kids?”

“That’s random.” Jensen blinked and shook his head. “Uh maybe. I don’t know. Why?”

“You’d be a great dad because you’re like a mom and a dad rolled into one.”

Then it clicked. That’s why Jared liked being with him so much. Jensen had often been accused of behaving like a mother hen. The realization should have taken the edge off the feelings Jensen was developing for Jared but if anything, it made him feel worse. Jared wanted a nurturing friend. And nothing more. That was fine.

No, it really wasn’t.

Jared ate three portions of Jensen’s cottage pie and then stuffed himself with two helpings of homemade apple and ginger ice cream. The eating hadn’t slowed down his drinking though and by the end of the meal, Jared was bulging with food and bedecked with rosy wine cheeks. 

“Am I going to have to carry you to the couch?” Jensen smirked as Jared let out a soft puff of a burp into his fist. “You can’t drive home in this state.”

“I-I can walk. Anyways, I’m not tired yet.”

“Fine. I’ll make us some coffee, you go drag yourself into the living room.”

“M’kay.” Jared’s chair dragged noisily against the stone tiled floor and he shuffled (even more than usual) into the living room while Jensen cleaned up, lips pursed that he was barely tipsy while Jared seemed to stone cold drunk. “Hello Beanie.” Jensen heard from the kitchen. He poked his head around the large hatch and watched in disbelief as Bean jumped onto Jared’s lap and curled up, paws padding rhythmically against his cottage pie belly. “Ow, claws. Easy, little buddy.” Jared grinned, stroking Bean with long hard swipes of his hand across the cats back that were sending Bean to heaven and cat hairs flying everywhere.

“Great, now I’m jealous of a cat.” Jensen muttered as he turned back to his kitchen duties but he was stopped completely in his tracks as Jared whispered into Bean’s head.

“I really like your daddy, shushy. Don’t tell. Our secret.”

Jensen gasped softly and scurried to the sink pouring too much dish soap over the dishes. He tried to rationalize the words in his head. _‘He likes me. That’s good, it’s nice and normal. But if he just ‘likes’ me, why keep it a secret? But, if he ‘likes me, likes me’, why? He’s straight. I know he’s straight. He had a girlfriend. Had. He might be bi. No, I saw him check out that girl who works at the florist on Saturday’s. But why keep it a secret? And why does Bean like him so much? Bean only likes me. Oh God. I need more wine.’_

Jensen had more wine and spent a good ten minutes in the kitchen dealing with overzealous soap suds leaking from the sink.

“You okay, Jenny?” Jared called out. 

“Yeah, just making the coffee, switch on the TV or-” Jensen was yelling as Jared appeared in the kitchen with Bean sitting on his shoulders. “-I don’t think it’s safe for Bean to be in the passenger seat while you’re drunk.” Jensen smirked. Annoyed and endeared equally by Bean’s position. 

“Does he always do this?” Jared slurred.

“Yeah but uh, only on me. He doesn’t like people, he has anxiety.”

“Really? Aw and yet he likes me. I feel special.” Jared beamed brightly. “Hey, I saw you have a guitar in your living room.”

“I do indeed.” Jensen nodded, glad of the subject change.

“Play me something.” Jared asked rubbing cheeks with Bean.

“No, I haven’t played in a while and I’m tired.” Jensen lied. His guitar was a throwback from his days in college and mostly sat collecting dust.

“Okay, maybe one day then?”

“Yeah. One day. Maybe.”

*

Jensen invited Klaus to stay for a few days because he needed an emergency summit which the pair had named ‘The J Summit’ because Jensen was becoming frustrated with being left ‘on read’ by Klaus and was in no mood to start embracing phone calls. And he really needed to vocalize his thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t as if he could confide in anyone in Mapleview, that conversation would wind up on the cover of the Mapleview Recorder. Because not a soul in that town could keep their mouths shut for five seconds. Except Jared of course, because he was ‘practically perfect in every way’. A lithe, sexy male Mary Poppins. It took a lot of persuading on Jensen’s part to tempt Klaus away from the city for a few days, so a deal was made.

“Can you start calling me Richard please?”

“Sure, weirdo.”

*

“I won’t lie, I can’t lie. This place is beautiful.” Richard and Jensen sat on the porch drinking a rather nice bottle of red.

“I know what I like.” Jensen grinned, curling his feet under himself.

“You do, but I cannot bear it any longer, small talk later. I need the gossip.”

“It’s good to know that my tragic love life, or lack of constitutes as gossip.” 

“I don’t mean it. You know that. So what’s the deal with the hot welder?”

“Blacksmith.” Jensen corrected. “Ugh, where do I start?”

“Where all good stories start, Jen. At the very beginning.”

Jensen spilled his guts and told Richard everything. How he first saw Jared stomping around the town, the talks about art, painting him, being one anothers’ ‘dates’ at the various events and parties the town held. Cardigan-Gate. The lunches, the dinners, the promises to go and buy chicks together next Easter. Everything.

“Yeah, he loves you.”

“What?”

“You heard. He’s either bi or closeted and confused. But it’s clear he likes you.”

“I overheard him, a couple of days ago. He said that he likes me and that it’s a secret.”

“Who did he tell?”

“Bean.” Jensen said plainly.

“He told your cat that he likes you but not you?” Richard laughed. “He’s as weird as you are, you’re made for one another.”

“I know.” Jensen turned around, an earnest expression on his face, one hand nervously massaging his bare foot. “What shall I do?”

“Tell him. Put yourself out of your misery.”

“Oh really. Rich, are you serious? You know what I’m like around guys. I can’t do it. It’s too much. My anxiety had been so level recently and all of this is just bringing it back.”

“No, you mustn’t give in to it. Rational thoughts, Jen. Do you want me to ask him?”

“No, God. No. Ugh, I feel like we should be having this conversation leaning against the lockers in Liberty High.” Jensen groaned and drained his half full glass of wine.

“Yeah, that’ll help.” Richard said dryly, watching Jensen from the corner of his eye. He turned to his friend and laid a hand on his knee. “I hate seeing you so sad, you’ve done so much to make life better for yourself. You have a beautiful home, you’re painting for _you_ and Jen, you’re not even wearing that awful sweater.” Richard chuckled.

“Bean sleeps on it now, I couldn’t get it back if I tried.” Jensen gave Richard a weak little smile. “You’re right, I know you’re right. I mean, he knows I’m gay and he’s fine with it.” Jensen meant to carry on but he glanced up and saw Jared pulling up in his car. “Oh shit. He’s here. Why is here?” Jensen inhaled sharply and stood up.

“Because he’s violently in love with you.” Richard muttered behind his wine glass.

“Shut up.” Jensen snapped, stepping barefoot from the porch onto the sun warmed grass to greet Jared. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Jared’s eyes were fixed on Richard like laser beams. He gave Jensen a half a smile.

“Yeah, I thought you might like to have dinner but I see you have a guest.” 

“That’s Klaus, well Richard. You remember me telling you about him?”

Jared frowned then almost deflated with relief and gave Jensen one of his gorgeous shish kebob grins. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“He’s staying for a few days. Come and meet him.” Jensen hooked an arm around Jared’s which made them look every bit the ‘not couple’.

Dinner was delightful and Jensen noted that Jared seemed to have a skill in bringing out the very best in people because he had Richard not just laughing but giggling his head off in no time. Every once in a while, Jensen would find himself sitting quietly while they talked, hands clasped together hiding a smile.

“He’s nice.” Jared said, stepping from the porch as Jensen walked him to his car. “Nicer than you told me he was.”

“Yeah, I’m as surprised as you are. The New York art scene turns everyone into a pretentious ass hole.”

“But not you. I can’t imagine you ever being like that.”

“I wasn’t” Jensen said, wrinkling his nose. “At least, I hope I wasn’t.

“Nope. Can’t see it.” Jared grinned. “Am I still okay to come over this weekend to paint? You can be Bob Ross and I’ll be the keen but talented muse.”

“Of course.” Jensen chuckled. “Come early, it gets hot in the studio after noon. I can’t wait for winter.”

“Me neither. I love snow” Jared grinned shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down, a little coy as if he were waiting for something. 

“Me too.” Jensen said softly, shoving Jared lightly with his elbow. “Night then.” 

“Night.”

Jensen closed his eyes as Jared walked away and imagined he’d just been given a chaste goodnight kiss.


	7. Fresh As The Morning Air

“Why aren’t we in the studio?” Jared said as he walked from his car holding a wicker picnic basket and a roll of brushes under one arm. All he was missing were ringlets and a hoop skirt.

“Too hot and I thought we’d paint a nice view outside today.” Jensen said, wiggling his bare toes in the grass as he sat perched on an ice box with two canvases propped up next to him.

“You’re not wearing shoes.”

“I don’t these days. I like the feeling of the grass.”

“Hm. You have nice feet.” Jared hummed. That ‘hm’ again which made Jensen curl his toes into the grass.

“Stop it. Stop looking at my feet.” 

Jared and Jensen strolled side by side and off Jensen’s land until they were presented with a vista that took Jared’s breath away. Rolling green hills for miles and amber tipped trees.

“I love it here.” Jensen said, inhaling deeply before rolling his head and groaning. “I forgot the chairs and easels.”

“Do you want me to go back?” Jared said, using his twee little picnic basket to point in the direction of home.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go. I can’t believe I forgot pretty much the most vital things.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not like we walked miles. Are you sure you don’t want me to go, I cover more ground.” Jared grinned. Jensen agreed and by way of a deal, he promised to set everything up while Jared was gone.

Twenty minutes later, they were both silently sat at their easels sketching and eating gigantic apples. Jensen could feel Jared lean back every so often to check out his progress. He hunched over his easel and lifted an elbow.

“Don’t copy, or I’ll tell Sir.” Jensen chuckled.

“Rattle tattle.” 

Jensen noted that Jared worked fast and while he was still carefully sketching, Jared was painting. His tin of solid watercolors were open and he had streaks of blue paint all over his hands, arms and his neck.

“You have paint on your neck.” Jensen said wryly, glancing at Jared then back to his canvas, a little smirk on his face. Jared wiped it but only made it worse. 

“I can feel it. Could you?” Jared pushed his brush behind one ear and handed Jensen a rag.

“Of course.” They turned to one another and Jensen dipped the rag into the cleanest pot of water and rubbed it over Jared’s neck. “How do you even get paint on your neck?” He grinned, holding Jared’s chin with his other hand.

“I have to keep pushing my hair back.”

“Tie it up perhaps.”

“Nah.”

“Why? I think it would suit you.” Jensen pushed Jared’s hair back from his face.

“Hm.” Jared hummed and whatever maternal instinct Jensen seemed to have made him want to just wash the mans face completely. Jared blinked slowly and shifted his weight on his chair, he leaned forward and pressed a hard open mouthed kiss on Jensen’s lips. He caught Jensen’s bottom lip as if his mouth were trying to grab it. And then reality kicked in, Jared pulled away and the first thing he saw was Jensen’s shocked face. Lips open and haloed with spit. Speechless. Whatever had gone through Jared’s mind was not good and he did not interpret Jensen’s silence as a good thing. “Oh God. No. I’m sorry. This, no. Shit.” And Jared was up. “I’m sorry.” Jared almost whined the apology out but Jensen was too dumbstruck to tell him there was no need to say sorry. But it was too late, and Jared was off, leaving Jensen with all of their things and walking/running back to the house.

“Jared, where are you going?”

“Nowhere, leave me alone. It’s fine.” Jared called out, waving a hand as he disappeared.

“Oh God!” Jensen got up and spun around several times. Things or Jared. Things or Jared. He chose ‘a few of the things’. By the time he had got back to the house, he heard Jared’s car pull away, kicking up a little dust from the dry driveway. “Jared!” Jensen called out but he was gone.

*

“He’s gone where for two weeks?” Jensen said in a voice that he assumed only dogs could hear.

“Florida, to spend some time with his Grandma.” Mr. P explained. “I know. It’s a cliché, I have an aged mom who retired to Florida, but you know seniors, they do what they want to do.” He chuckled but only because he could see the pain and confusion in Jensen’s eyes. “He’ll be back, he does this. When the going gets tough.”

“I preferred it when he used to anger lap around the main street.” Jensen muttered sadly.

“So did I, I got shot of him for ten minutes.” He grinned. “Ever since you came along he’s been mellow. You’re like a walking talking bong.” Mr. P wiped his hands down his heavy leather apron. “Got time for some coffee?”

“Yeah, okay.” The sadness in Jensen’s voice was apparent. It had only been a small kiss. And it had been something nice and Jared had instigated it. As tantrums went, this one was a doozy. No replies to texts or any other kind of messages and now he was sitting in Mr. P’s office nursing a cup of coffee that smelled of hazelnuts and even the Starbucks whore in Jensen couldn’t even appreciate it.

“He really likes you Jensen.”

“I know, at least I think I do. You know that I’m gay, right?”

“Yes, of course. I know my son is too but he needs to work that out for himself.” 

Jensen wasn’t relieved at hearing that. He would have preferred to hear it from the horses mouth but that was just Jensen being selfish. But that truth was, Jensen had found himself in love and caught up in Jared’s confusion about his sexuality. He didn’t want to play the victim because he knew how hard coming out can be. Didn’t hurt any less though.

“I wasn’t sure.” Jensen said quietly. “I didn’t push him or anything.”

“I know you didn’t. The kid mumbled something about what happened before he left. We talk about stuff in this family. We have to really, after everything.”

“Jared told me about your wife. I’m so sorry that happened to you both.”

“He told you? Well, that’s progress. As much as Jared and I talk and share much of the heartbreak together it’s not healthy. It’s little wonder we clash so often, Jared hasn’t had anyone outside of us to talk to. I tried to get him to talk to a therapist but he wouldn’t let me pay for it and the kid hasn’t got any money himself. Savings of course but that’s for college. He’s meant to be going back to college to finish his degree in fine art. Been saying it for years now but he won’t leave me, or the business. So I suggested an online course but he said even that would take him away from the business too often. Truth is, I can cope fine but he doesn’t want to leave me all alone. Sweet boy.” Mr. P paused and grinned. “I don’t suppose you could take him off my hands?” Mr. P chuckled and Jensen could only be honest with him.

“I would, gladly.”

“Give him time, he’ll come around.”

Sometimes two weeks can feel like no time at all, other times it can feel like an eternal pit of despair. Jensen was living the latter. He had engaged with a ‘tug of war’ to reclaim his cardigan from Bean who was _not_ happy about it and just vanished into himself. He had turned down several functions and events in the town and spent most days eating his weight in pasta and pretending to be a gay American Bridget Jones. The two weeks came and went and before Jensen knew it, it was September. Jared was still on ‘radio silent’ and Jensen had stopped trying to call and send messages days ago. His anxiety was peaking but he just about managed to keep a depression at bay which was a small victory because when Jared did come back, Jensen wanted him to see a strong, together man who hadn’t been practically snorting ice cream like a whiny little bitch.  
An event reminder popped up on Jensen’s phone when he was brewing his coffee one misty September morning. ‘Open Mic Night’ at the community hall. That was the last thing he needed, a social occasion with the danger of public humiliation. But he had promised Milton because everyone, probably even all their pets, had missed him being around. ‘Promise me. You don’t have to do anything, just turn up and have a few drinks’. It was hard to say no to Milton.

It was also hard to be lonely in Mapleview, while they had respected Jensen’s sudden retreat into himself and his home, his friends and neighbors greeted him with such warmth when he walked into the hall, that he couldn’t be anything than touched by it. Vi hugged him and gave his little pasta paunch a rub, Milton gave him a ‘glass nod’ from the bar and Mary promised to bring his Tupperware back. _‘You better, bitch!’_

There seemed to be only one requirement for Open Mic Night and that was to be very drunk. As much as the people of Mapleview loved their wholesome arts and crafts and Bake Offs, those people knew how to party. And Jensen found himself an amused spectator while drinking a glass of craft ale which was so strong it was making his eyes water. The line up was the usual you would find at one those kind of affairs. Middling acoustic guitarists, ‘oh my God I didn’t know you had such an amazing voice’ singers, a few comedians who would only make that particularly group of people laugh and Milton the Marvelous who treated the crowd with a few magic tricks which weren’t half bad. But then everyone was too tipsy to care. Jensen had also made it quite clear that he would not be participating and luckily for him, they weren’t a pushy bunch so he was left alone to chat to Steve about the art of butchering a deer. Enlightening and terrifying. Jensen hadn’t felt so cheerful since his little painting expedition with Jared over two weeks ago. Jared. It was Jared, filling the door way into the community hall and looking at Jensen as if ‘How dare you look so happy, you’re meant to crying into your pillow’. Jensen stood up and waved, it was a pathetic effort since he was quite tipsy and overwhelmed with finally seeing him. Jared didn’t wave back, instead he disappeared into the throng of people (quite a feat for a giant) and acted like Jensen didn’t exist.

Jensen plonked himself down on his bar stool and then the penny dropped, Jared thought he had hated the kiss. And the only messages Jensen had sent were ‘Hi’ ones. Not long heartfelt paragraphs explaining how much he loves him. How he would throw himself into molten metal for Jared. No, just ‘Hi’ or if he had been feeling particularly fancy. ‘Hi x’ or ‘Hi? X’ Jensen suddenly felt like a useless fool, a useless stupid fool in love. A useless but ‘about to do something stupid’ love-sick fool. 

“Whose guitar is that?” Jensen said to Steve, nodding at the pretty acoustic instrument propped up on a stand next to the stage.

“Ryan’s.” Steve nodded toward Ryan who was Milton’s grandson and was visiting for a few days.

“Great, thanks.” 

Jensen wasn’t even thinking as he approached ‘complete stranger Ryan’ to ask to use his guitar for a few minutes. He was thinking even less as he lifted the strap over his head and walked toward the tiny stage, fingers lightly tuning the instrument and still not thinking. No one introduced him because he had already told Milton ‘no with every breath of my body’. Jensen heaved one ass cheek onto a stool with a mic set up in front of it. People had started to notice. And that included Jared.

“Uh, hi.” Jensen muttered into the mic as all eyes turned to him and his entire body almost melted under the crude spotlight and his burgeoning anxiety. “I just wanted to sing a little song-” And that was all he manage before disappearing into himself, hooking one foot behind a rung on the stool and playing out the introduction to his ‘little song’. He knew Jared was watching him but he couldn’t bring himself to look as he started to sing, eyes closed, hiding.

_Love soft as an easy chair_

_Love fresh as the morning air_

_One love that is shared by two_

_I have found with you_

Jensen’s singing voice was an octave or two higher than his speaking voice but still possessed his trademark gravel that unbeknown to him, sent shivers up Jared’s spine constantly and now. Jared weaved through the crowd, rapt and overcome. Amazed that Jensen had found the strength to literally put himself under spotlight.

_Like a rose under the April snow_

_I was always certain love would grow_

_Love ageless and evergreen_

_Seldom seen by two_

Jensen opened his eyes as he moved through the song and Jared was there, only him. Everyone else had vanished as far as Jensen was concerned because when it came down to it, Jensen could do anything for his tantrum throwing smithy. 

_You and I will_

_Make each night the first_

_Everyday a beginning_

_Spirits rise and their dance is unrehearsed_

_They warm and excite us_

_'Cause we have the brightest love_

_Two lights that shine as one_

_Morning glory and midnight sun_

_Time, we've learned to sail above_

_Time, won't change the meaning of one love_

_Ageless and ever, evergreen_

It was only when the crowd broke out in rapturous applause did Jensen truly realize what he had just done and that there were other people in the room and it wasn’t just Jared standing in front of him with tear heavy eyes. Jensen lifted the guitar over his head and leaned it precariously against the stool before being whisked away, one big hand wrapped around his dragging him through the crowd as if he were some superstar being guided away from his fans by his bodyguard. The cool air bit as they stepped outside, Jensen had sweated through his cardigan and his neck was lined with heavy veins; singing and stress.

“You shouldn’t have left that day, I liked it.”

“I’m sorry I walked away. I thought you hated it.”

Their first words to one another after so many weeks came out in sync. As did the next few.

“I know that now.”

“I didn’t hate it.”

Jared’s huge hands came up to Jensen’s face and it disappeared in them. He kissed him gently, just one long press of his lips against Jensen’s mouth. Testing still. Jensen grabbed the sides of Jared’s shirt and pulled him close, opening his mouth and kissing him back. They didn’t come up for air for five whole minutes.


	8. Epilogue

“You won the Open Mic Night.” Milton was stood on Jensen’s porch at silly o’clock in the morning clutching a huge wicker basket filled with jars of chutney, conserves, crackers, cheeses and two bottles of red wine. Jensen was holding a wriggling Bean in his arms who was keen to get outside for his morning poop.

“Uh, that’s great, Milton. Although, I didn’t technically enter. I just sort of hijacked the mic and your grandsons guitar.”

“It was unanimous. Who would have thought that you could sing so well.” Milton grinned and shoved the basket of goodies at Jensen. “Morning, Jared.” He added wryly.

“Hey, Milton, how’s it going?” Jared said lazily has he walked from the kitchen to the living room in miniscule boxers, nursing a cup of coffee and tremendous sex hair.

Jensen had taken a risk singing Jared’s song the night before. But he had wanted to claim it back as a happy song for the boy he fell in love with when summer was full of dreams and fall was nothing but a promise. Jensen had taken him home and promised to love him and give him some happy memories to balance out the sad. And Jared had taken him on his word and they made love all night and until fricking Milton had turned up with his basket of chutney.

“I like that you did it.” Jared said, sun-kissed legs for days resting across Jensen’s heavy pasty thighs.

“I know, darling. You told me.”

“I just do though.”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry I ran out on you too.”

“You said that too, Jay.” Jensen chuckled, admiring Jared’s pretty bare feet and tracing the thin bones under the skin with his finger tip.

“I am though.”

“It’s like being on a conversational carousel with you.” 

“Ride me like a carousel pony.” Jared smirked. “Just like you did last night. You know, I am really surprised you bottom.”

“Power bottom.” Jensen corrected. “And I’m not ashamed of it. I’m needy and I’m proud.”

“Me too. At least we can swap.”

“Yeah, at least we can swap.” Jensen echoed with a deep chuckle. “You’re lovely. I like you.”

“That’s better than love sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

“I love you and I like you.”

Jensen blushed at that and had to look somewhere else so he watched Bean curled up, padding against Jensen’s protection cardigan on the floor.

“I love you and I like you.” Jensen said, lifting his eyes to look at his boyish man, he grinned. “You’re my cardigan.”

Note: Jensen never did get his Tupperware back, so Jared bought him some new ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first foray into true romantic fluff, so if you enjoyed it and want to read more of my work, proceed with caution because they are a lot more explicit! 
> 
> This fic was inspired my Jensen's real life amazing orange cardigan and Jared's dirty vest photo shoot. We all know the one!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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